Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Start Swimming
Jameson Sinclair
My jaw aches from clenching it the entire drive back to campus. I was tempted to go to the arena or gym instead, but my knee can’t take another workout. So now I have to take all of my pent-up frustration home and prop my leg up when I feel like hitting something.
It’s not that I’m angry with Marigold—though her hatred stings—but more so that I’m mad at myself for not trying harder, sooner.
When I found out Marigold asked about ice cream floats, I thought we had begun a two steps forward, one step back sort of dance.
It was easy to stomach the sarcastic jabs and emotional distance when I thought we were making progress.
Maybe my hope was foolish. I’d said it was a thing of feathers, but maybe it’s made up of wax too.
The kind that melts when you get too close to the sun.
Now I’m barreling toward the sea, destined to drown just as Icarus did.
I walk into my dorm and try to keep a level head when I hear Nash playing a game in the living room. His favorite pastime is pushing my buttons, but I don’t think I can handle that today. I might snap, which as much as I’m craving a fight, wouldn’t be good.
His eyes widen when he sees me. I head to my room to change first, since I’m drenched from the rain.
I’d like to lie down on my bed and not leave it for the rest of the night, maybe longer, but I need an ice pack more than I need solitude.
My knee is getting worse the longer I’m on it.
Stretching out in the booth helped, but not enough to stave off the pain entirely.
So I put on dry clothes, then reenter the living area.
“How long did you practice for?” Nash asks as I head to the freezer.
“A while,” I grunt.
I pull out the ice pack, then limp over to the other side of the couch, where I sprawl out. A hiss escapes me when the weight of the ice settles on my tender knee.
“I told you not to push yourself so much,” Nash says, setting aside his game controller. “You look awful.”
“Thanks,” I reply back in monotone.
“Did you eat? There’s leftover pizza in the fridge.”
“I ate before coming here, but thanks,” I say, a little more genuine this time.
The tension in my muscles starts to ease once I relax into the couch. I scrub my hands over my face, trying to calm down.
“Is it that bad? Are you going to have to sit out tomorrow?”
I sigh. “No, it’s just sore. I think if I stay off it as much as possible until the game, I’ll be fine.”
“Then why do you look so despondent?”
I raise my brows at his word choice. “Since when do you use words like despondent?”
“Are English majors the only ones allowed to use big words? I’m smart.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t,” I reply wryly. “Is your change in diction by chance due to your recent interaction with Paisley?”
Paisley may not be a literature concentration like Marigold and me, but she loves words. I’m sure she let Nash know his were lacking in their conversation.
“Is your poor attitude by chance due to a recent interaction with Red?”
I frown at his retort.
“If I leave you alone, will you leave me alone?” I ask.
He laughs. “Not a chance. You can ask whatever you want about Paisley. She’s just a Yankee girl who stole my hat, then berated me for a half hour. Red is the love of your life.”
“Is that what happened after I left the party? Last I saw, you two were dancing the night away.”
After a few minutes of Marigold being gone, I went looking for her. I knew she lied about needing a drink, but I thought she just wanted a few minutes to herself. Instead, she left. So I went home, because she was the reason I was there in the first place, and texted to make sure she was safe.
“Paisley taught me you can dance and argue at the same time. She also taught me several new words, like vacuous, obtuse, and unctuous,” he grumbles.
I wince. “Ouch.”
“Yep.” He sighs. “So, I got a dictionary and thesaurus from the library. That way next time I see her, I’ll be prepared.”
I huff out a laugh.
“That’s ridiculous. Why would you see her again anyway?”
“When you and Red get married, I’m sure she’ll be in the wedding. As will I. So I need to be prepared.”
“That was one of the most presumptuous statements I’ve heard.”
He grins. “I prefer optimistic. Now, tell me what happened with your future wife.”
I shoot him a flat look. His grin doesn’t waver, so I sigh and decide the situation can’t get any worse if I talk about it.
“We went to dinner together to go over the article. Everything was going great—more than great, even. She was laughing and we were reminiscing. Then, out of nowhere, she ran out of the restaurant. It’s like she realized we were having fun and couldn’t allow it.
We argued in the parking lot, but got nowhere. ”
I throw my hands up.
“I don’t know what to do. She won’t let me apologize, won’t let me get too close to her. She misses me, I know she does. I can see it in her eyes.” My throat tightens. “But she keeps pulling away.”
“You still haven’t told me what happened between you two. All I know is you’re in love, but you did something to mess things up,” Nash says.
“I’ll tell you, but don’t ask me for a bunch of details, or else I’m shutting this conversation down.” I give him a pointed look.
He nods. “Go for it.”
After another deep breath, I do. I tell him about falling for Goldie, about kissing her that night under the stars, and her distancing herself. Then I tell him about the situation around the internship, and how much I regret it but can’t change what happened.
“I just wish she would hear me out and let me apologize."
“Let you?” Nash questions with a shake of his head. “Don’t be—what was Paisley’s word again? oh—obtuse. You two were best friends for years. Get her alone and start talking. Don’t let her stop you. If she runs, follow her. Don’t lose her out of fear.”
“I’m not afraid,” I say, and Nash looks like he doesn’t believe me. “I just don’t want to hurt her anymore than I already have.”
“That sounds like fear talking.”
Realization washes over me at his words.
He’s right. I’ve been upset with Marigold for letting fear keep her from reconciling, when I’ve been doing the same thing.
If we keep things how they are now, I’ll still get to see her and talk to her.
We even have good moments like today. But if I push …
we either end up somewhere amazing or terrible.
There’s no in between. And that terrifies me.
“I don’t want to lose her,” I confess.
“From the sound of things, you already are. Every day you don’t say something, she takes another step away. Soon, there will be miles between you. It’s a lot easier to cross a pond of hurt than an ocean of resentment.”
“I get what you’re saying, but it already feels like there’s an ocean, or at least a lake, between us. And I’m in a rowboat with no paddle.”
Nash shrugs. “Then you better get out and swim. You can complain about the distance, or you can do something to close it. Your choice.”
I stay quiet for a moment, processing his words. He stands up and sets his controller on the TV stand.
“I’m going to read the dictionary until I fall asleep. Probably won’t take long, considering how boring it is,” he says as he stretches his arms above his head.
“Pedantic,” I tell him as he starts to head to his room. “Next time you see Paisley, call her pedantic. She’ll hate it.”
He chuckles. “Thanks.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I needed to hear what you said.”
He throws a smile over his shoulder.
“You can thank me by making me best man at your wedding.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “Sure.”
It’s an easy deal to make, since I don’t see it coming true. Even if I somehow manage to get Marigold to forgive me, I can’t see her wanting anything more than friendship. Not after the way she acted the night we kissed.
I need to pace myself better. Have more patience.
Nash’s words made me see I can’t get so discouraged that I give up.
And yeah, maybe he’s right about me being afraid of pushing too much, but he doesn’t understand what’s at stake.
I need to take things a step at a time and show Marigold she can trust me again.
Then maybe she’ll hear me out and we can become friends again.
After that … well, I can’t let myself think that far ahead. That will ensure that I end up drowning in regret just like Icarus.